Close my eyes, blink rapidly,
quick succession of images
behind my eyelids. Dreams.
Streams of goals and wants.
Everything I hoped to be.
Grasp and take hold firmly…
time…then a gasp,
after holding on for so long,
sore hands and blisters formed;
eyes open to the corrugated hand,
to find it empty.
And I feel, like that.
With one swift exhale,
my breath is gone.
Years pass and I haven’t changed.
Feel stifled, stagnant, stilted.
Still holding on to everything
I’ve picked up, and carry with me.
The pain, the sorrow, hurt and scars.
You cannot see cause it’s all inside me,
and I stand here; busted, broken, bruised;
but still I try, yet relapse too often.
There’s a quiet voice inside my head;
when all is still, it’s all I hear.
Your dreams, they cannot be is what it says.
My shoulders slump and my head falls…
still I try.
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